


Many hands make tasty work

by Snowflakesandangels



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Baking, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Goth Bucky Barnes, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowflakesandangels/pseuds/Snowflakesandangels
Summary: Based on the prompt: "You offered to help with my holiday baking and now I have 400 cookies and I live alone."





	Many hands make tasty work

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, pals! 
> 
> I hope everyone's having a peaceful day, and if not (I know, life sucks sometimes), hopefully this little fluff will help. Hugs all around!

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t enjoy making cookies, he just thought four hundred was a little much to get done in one afternoon. Still, if that’s how many Sam needed…

It wasn’t until his hands were full of house keys and shopping bags that Steve noticed that one tiny hole he’d thought would be alright had widened, but by then it was too late; one sickening crunch and a dozen eggs hit the concrete floor with five pounds of sugar on top.

“Aw, dammit!”

“Need help?”

Steve barely glanced up as his neighbor poked a head out of the door next to his; he couldn’t even remember the guy’s name, James something-or-other, kind of goth looking. “Not unless you’ve got a dozen eggs I can borrow.”

Without another word James slammed his door, leaving Steve to clean up his mess alone. Not that he was surprised, he wasn’t exactly the most popular neighbor in the building; in fact, Steve was pretty sure he lived on the Misfit Toys floor, nobody else seemed very popular, either.

The door opposite Steve’s opened a crack, sending out wafts of cigarette smoke and damp dog. Steve waved a hand in acknowledgement as he finished gathering up what was left of his groceries and unlocked his door. “I’ll get it cleaned up, Mrs J!”

“See that you do! I don’t want to smell rotten eggs every time I go out!”

Mrs J’s door slammed, and Steve sighed. Mrs J wasn’t a bad old lady, just a bit cranky; though with everything she’d gone through in her life, Steve figured she had every right to be.

After putting his food away and scrubbing congealed egg off the hall linoleum, Steve was ready to get down to work; then he remembered he was still short twelve eggs. He was about to swear again when a loud knock on the door distracted him and he went to see who it was.

“Here.” Steve blinked in surprise as a box of free-range eggs was pushed at him while his neighbor, James, waited for him to take them. “You still want ‘em?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes, thank you.” Steve carefully took the box and James shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Let me put these somewhere and I’ll give you some money for them.”

“That’s not-” James started, but Steve was already zipping around his kitchen trying to clear some counter space. Not sure what to do, James stayed by the door, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets as deep as they would go. Eventually, Steve stopped running around and came back with a five dollar bill.

“Does this cover it?”

“I was gonna say, that’s not necessary.” James ignored Steve’s indignant frown; he thought it was kind of cute, but he wasn’t intimidated by it. “I had to pick up some stuff anyway.”

“I didn’t see you leave.”

James rolled his eyes. “I used the fire escape. It’s a short cut to the greenmarket.”

“Oh.” Steve was more of a bodega guy himself. “Well, thanks, that was nice of you.” Then he added, “Ya wanna come in?”

“Sure.”

Waiting for James to get clear of the door, Steve closed it and led the way to his kitchen. “It’s kind of a mess in here, a friend of mine asked me to make some cookies for a holiday fundraiser.”

“Cool. Need any help?”

“You already bought me eggs.”

“So? I don’t have anything else to do.”

Taking in James’ calm, friendly demeanor, which contrasted with his dark shoulder length hair, black nail polish, leather jacket, band t-shirt, and combat boots, Steve remembered his ma’s lesson to never judge anyone on appearances, no matter what. She’d also taught him not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Great.” Steve smiled and held his hand out. “I’m Steve, by the way.”  

“Bucky.”

“I thought it was James.”

James, Bucky, took off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch, pulled his hair into a neat bun, then stepped up to the sink to wash his hands. “It is, but I prefer Bucky. What temp does the oven need to be on?”

“Oh, uh,” after momentarily forgetting where he put his cookbook, Steve located it behind a bag of flour, “three-seventy-five. Do you do a lot of baking?”

“I do some baketivism.” Bucky smiled softly, and Steve had to admit it was absolutely heartwarming. “Mostly for the animal shelter, and lgbt youth shelter. You?”

“Well, all these cookies are for a disabled veterans fundraiser, so, yeah, I guess this counts as baketivism.”  

"Nice." Bucky smiled again and turned around to set the oven. “How many are we making?”

“Four hundred.”

“Come again? Four _hundred_?” Bucky blew out a breath and looked around Steve’s microscopic kitchen. “Okay, it’s not impossible, but it might help to get a little better organized.”

“You’re the expert.”

“Alright, let’s do this assembly line. Ingredients on the table, dry on the left, wet on the right, pans on top of the stove. Got any parchment paper?”

Steve shook his head. “I usually just grease the pans.”

“Well this time you’re gonna want paper. I’ve got some in my kitchen. Can you start organizing stuff?”

Steve nodded and Bucky disappeared, coming back a minute later with a roll of parchment paper and two extra baking sheets. “I heated up my oven so we can get this done faster. I’m assuming you need these sometime this afternoon?”

“Yeah, by… jeez, five o’clock. Guess I am cutting it a bit close.”

“It’s okay, I do this all the time. Where’s your recipe?”

Handing Bucky the book, Steve started hunting around for measuring cups, spoons, and anything else he thought they might need and set them on the table.

“Got everything?”

“Yup.”

Bucky started reading off the recipe and Steve started mixing ingredients; then it was Bucky’s turn to scoop blobs of dough onto the pans, stick them in the ovens, and keep running back and forth between Steve’s apartment and his own to make sure they didn’t burn. And somehow, in the middle of their berserk baking spree, he and Steve still managed to carry on a halfways decent conversation.

"So, you're tellin' me you spent your whole life in Brooklyn and never had a blackout cake?" Steve rolled a third batch of snickerdoodle balls in cinnamon sugar while Bucky started mixing a bowl of chocolate chip dough.

"I've read about it. Isn't it really fussy and takes like, what, three separate bowls to make?"

"Well, yeah, but that's what makes it so good." Steve washed his hands before helping to roll the last of the snickerdoodles. "Putting time and effort into something, whether it's cake, or art, or whatever we do, makes all the difference in the world. All of that ready made stuff just makes you miss out on so much."

Bucky watched Seve drop a handful of dough balls into his sugar mixture, carefully rolling each one like a delicate bird's egg before depositing it on the next parchment lined tray. It was actually kind of soothing.

"You're really good at that." Bucky kept his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb Steve’s work. Steve blushed a little at the compliment.

"Thanks. I haven't gotten the chance to bake in a long time. Not since... well, before my mom died, anyway."

"I'm sorry. What was she like?"

No matter how long he lived, Steve would never forget her... "Good. I mean that she had a real goodness you could see in everything she did; her work as a nurse, helping out folks less fortunate than us, baking for the neighborhood kids." Steve grinned softly, and Bucky did too. "She was always kind, understanding, never judged, taught me to do the same. I just hope I've made her proud."

Humming thoughtfully, Bucky moved around Steve so he could go check the pans in his oven, but he took a moment to pause in the doorway before he did. “Hey, Steve… I'm sure you have.”

 

...

 

After another two hours, several more trips to Bucky’s apartment, and cleaning out sticky bowls, (wash, dry, repeat), they finally finished, exhausted, but with an hour to spare. Once the cookies were boxed up and ready to go, Steve leaned against his counter with a sigh and a slump.

“Whew. I don’t know how we did that, but thank you.”

“No problem.” Bucky gave Steve another one of his warm smiles and stood up to leave. “I better get going so you’re not late.”

Hey, um, before you go,” Steve sheepishly handed Bucky the almost empty box of eggs, “I’ll buy you some next time I go out.”

“Nah, you can keep 'em.” Bucky grinned as he made his way to Steve’s door, “I’m vegan anyway.”

The kindness of Bucky’s gesture, of all his help, really, was a little overwhelming to Steve, and as he watched Bucky disappear again into his own apartment, he felt a growing determination to repay him in some way. Though whatever that might end up being would have to wait; he had a job to finish first.

 

…

 

“Four hundred?!” For the guy who’d specifically asked for that number of cookies, Sam seemed genuinely shocked. “Steve, I said four dozen.”

“I distinctly heard four hundred.”

“Well, the line must have been bad.” Sam surveyed the eight large boxes of cookies currently taking up precious space on his dessert table. “There’s no way anyone here’s gonna eat that many cookies in three hours.”

“Well what am I supposed to do with them?”

“I don’t know. Just get them off my table before the cheesecake lady gets here.”

The threat of Natasha “The Cheesecake Lady” Romanoff, not having space to display her creation was not an empty one; she could be fierce where desserts were concerned, (as Steve had learned the hard way). Completely stumped for what to do next, Steve hoisted his share of the boxes back into his arms. “Just keep a couple dozen extra, alright?”

“You’re not staying?”

The look Steve bestowed on his friend was dry enough to evaporate a gallon of eggnog. “In case the six boxes of cookies weren’t a clue, I’ve got my hands full.”

 

…

 

“Three hundred cookies, jeez.” Steve almost didn’t want to blink in case the darned things multiplied. “What am I gonna do with three hundred cookies?”

Without anywhere else to turn, Bucky seemed like the best person to ask for help. Maybe he’d know of another baketivism thing to take them to, or… well, there was only one way to find out. It took a few extra knocks on the door to get Bucky to answer, but when he did he seemed glad to see Steve, if a little surprised.

“Hey, Steve. I thought you had somewhere to be at five.”

“Yeah, about that.” Steve gestured over his shoulder towards his own apartment. “Turns out they only needed four dozen.”

“You serious?” Bucky snickered like it was the funniest thing he’d heard in awhile. “So what did you do with the rest? Aw, please don’t tell me you threw them away.”

“No! Of course not!“ Steve held up his hands like that would prove his innocence. “They’re on my kitchen table; I just thought you might know of someplace else that had a fundraiser tonight.”

“Oh, uhm...” Bucky’s face squinched up in thought for several long seconds, but he came up empty. “I’m sorry, Steve, I don’t.” Seeing Steve’s look of dejection, Bucky poked him gently with a black painted fingernail. “Tell ya what; bring ‘em over here and we’ll divide them into smaller packages. I’ve got an idea the folks on this floor could do with a bit of cheering up.”

Grabbing the boxes from his apartment, Steve followed Bucky into his; it was identical except for the darker furnishings and Tim Burton posters, but still cozy in it’s own way, too. Bucky must have caught Steve staring a little too long because he gave him a lopsided grin.

“Welcome to the mausoleum.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry, no, it’s really nice in here.” Steve blushed a little but Bucky just chuckled. He had a nice chuckle, now that Steve thought about it… “It’s very… unique.”

“I’m very glad you like it, Steve. Here,” Bucky quickly wiped off his kitchen table so Steve could set the boxes down. “I think I’ve got some sandwich bags around here somewhere…”

“Is it okay to have non-vegan stuff in you kitchen?”

“Yeah, I’m not real picky.” Bucky returned to the table with a stack of small bags and a spool of ribbon. “I'm just trying to help make the world a better place, ya know.”

Steve smiled to himself and opened up a box of cookies. “So, how do we divide these? Three apiece? Six?”

“Well, there’s thirty apartments on this floor, so I guess ten cookies each would be about right.”

Steve divided a box of cookies into stacks of ten, then eyed Bucky’s sandwich bags doubtfully. "You sure they're all gonna fit in there?"

"Probably not." Bucky's eyes crinkled at the corners and Steve felt his heart melt into his ribs. "Don't suppose you've got extra bags at your place?"

"Might have."

"Well go get 'em." Bucky nudged Steve's foot with his toe. "Sooner we get these cookies packed the sooner we can deliver them."

Between exiting Bucky's door and entering it again, Steve couldn't help grinning from ear to ear; if a bad phone connection and three hundred cookies too many was what it took to meet Bucky, he'd bake cookies for the whole world! By the time he got back, Bucky had already filled half a dozen of his own bags and was starting on another.

"Find some?"

Steve waved his box of gallon ziplocks and sat down to get to work. "Mind if ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Are you always this nice?"

At that, Bucky threw his head back and laughed so hard Steve felt it vibrate through the table. "I guess so? I'm not acting any different than I usually do." Biting his lip to reign in some of his laughter, Bucky filled another bag. "Why?"

"I just, um, you just seem like a genuinely nice person." Steve felt himself blush a little. "I haven't met too many people like that."

"Oh. Why not? If that's not too nosy to ask."

Steve shrugged as he squeezed the air out of a bag and set it aside. "It's just that I was the skinny kid everyone picked on in school. My mom worked herself sick being a nurse, we didn’t have any other family, or friends, or... I don't know..."

"Sounds tough." Steve let a tiny smile crack his lips as Bucky nudged his foot again. "I get it. Being the black sheep of the family isn't a walk in the park, either. When your folks are benefactors of the school you go to, there's a lot of expectations to be something you're not. I'm not sayin' I understand everything you've been through, just... I get it."

A comfortable silence fell over the kitchen, punctuated only by the crackling of cookies sliding into plastic bags, over and over until the last ones were finished and Bucky was wiping down the table again.

"There. Now all we gotta do is leave 'em at people's doors, knock once, and run like hell."

"You mean you don't wait for them to answer so you can say Merry Christmas?" Steve shook some loose crumbs out of two of the boxes so Bucky could refill them with cookie bags.

"I always thought it was best to do your giving anonymously."

"Well, my ma always said it was important to get to know people."

Steve looked miserably at Bucky and Bucky looked uncomfortably at Steve; neither of them wanted to back down from their principles, but they didn't really want to argue either.

"I guess we could split up..."

"Take separate corridors..."

"Say goodnight now, or..."

"Not?" Bucky peered hopefully over the top of his cookies. "We could always meet back here. If you want."

"Get some vegan takeout, maybe watch a movie?" Seeing Bucky’s smile light up to its usual warm glow let Steve know he'd said the right thing. "How 'bout you take the hall past your door and I'll take mine."

"Deal." Bucky peeked out into the hallway before closing his door behind him and tiptoeing towards the corner leading to the end apartments. Just as Steve was about to knock on Mrs J's door, he heard Bucky loudly whisper behind him, "Get ready to marathon some holiday movies."

"Oh, wait, lemme guess." Grinning like a kid who'd found the perfect present under the tree, Steve raised his hand to knock just as Bucky ducked out of sight. "Nightmare before Christmas?"

"You better believe it, pal!"

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky's t-shirt is from Nightwish, [Elan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPonioDYnoY) specifically which I thoroughly recommend watching if you want to have a good beautiful cry. 
> 
> This is my first time drawing backgrounds! *gasp* 
> 
> Sending you all even more hugs and as many cookies as the boys can bake.


End file.
